


Something About Sabrina

by Riadasti



Series: Where Do You Live, Linus? [1]
Category: Sabrina (1954), Sabrina (1995)
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Mild Language, Mutual Pining, Older Man/Younger Woman, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:33:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29721447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riadasti/pseuds/Riadasti
Summary: Linus Larrabee has decided to take care of Sabrina Fairchild. Not in the familial or friendly sense of the word--but rather in terms of saving his brother from making a stupid mistake. But for once in his life, Linus's best laid plans fall apart.
Relationships: Sabrina Fairchild/Linus Larrabee
Series: Where Do You Live, Linus? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2200374
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	1. Disaster

**Author's Note:**

> This is focused mainly on the 1995 remake of the classic film, but I found Harrison Ford's portrayal of Linus a bit more accessible in this one. I particularly enjoyed the tension between Sabrina and Linus. Hope you enjoy it!

_She was his undoing. Good God, what came over Linus that he felt so compelled to kiss her? She had slapped him, and that had hurt—but it had been a welcome return to sanity. At least, until he had later decided to politely and discreetly “get rid” of Sabrina by wooing her and shipping her off to Paris. It wasn’t the stupidest idea, he thought._

_But he was wrong. His biggest mistake seemed to be constantly underestimating the chauffer’s daughter._

\--

Sabrina was elated, excited, and feeling _deliciously_ attractive under David’s keen gaze. He still had not guessed who she was, and he had even asked her to join him at the lavish birthday party celebration that evening.

“Do you really want me to?” she said.

“Very much,” he replied. “If you’ll tell me who you are.”

She debated her response. She could keep him in the dark for as long as possible, perhaps continuing the ruse until she admitted the truth at the party, except—

“Hello, Sabrina,” Linus, the ever-practical older brother said as he made his way to the car.

“Hello, Linus,” she said, annoyed by the older man’s astuteness. David glanced back and forth between them, and the truth dawned on his face at last.

“S-Sabrina?” David faltered, a half-smile tugging at his lips.

“Have a good time in Paris?” Linus asked as he pulled something out of the trunk.

“Yes, thank you,” she replied, keeping her gaze on David’s face.

“Sabrina?” David repeated, still dumb-founded.

“You look all grown up,” Linus said.

She frowned briefly at his matter-of-fact tone. His sudden presence was an annoyance, but there was a hint of curiosity that underpinned her irritation. David didn’t know who she was until this moment, but Linus was always noticing her. Always the one to see when she was upset, to comfort her. Perhaps not so much now as he had done years ago, that day of the storm…

But now David, the self-professed “lesser Larrabee” was gazing at her with an almost ardent expression. It was everything she had hoped for, and yet it was odd. She was disappointed that he was _so_ shocked by this revelation.

“Sabrina!” David said again, a smile filling his face like sunshine.

“Why does he keep saying that?” the older brother commented with a wry smile.

She quickly excused herself, unable to withstand the embarrassment of the moment any longer. As she ran, she tried to shake away the heavy disappointment that had fallen over her. It wasn’t exactly how she had planned to reveal herself to David—not that—well, that sounded as though she planned to walk up to him in some secluded corner, perhaps the solarium, and rip off her clothes. Though maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea, given David’s playboy reputation…

Sabrina shook her head and hoped her friends and family would think nothing of the flush that filled her cheeks. As she made her way through the servants’ entrance, she was suddenly ensconced in the kitchen, flooded with the warm comforts of home and family. Gifts were exchanged, and she lost herself in the joys of the moment—the earlier embarrassment and confusion momentarily forgotten.

\--

Linus readjusted his bowtie and stared down at the papers in his hand while he talked on the phone. He had made his rounds, chatted and charmed (as much as he _could_ charm, with his personality and dry humor). But he knew how to talk the language of money and mergers, stocks and trade. He had engaged in the meaningless mingling for as long as possible before slipping away to a business meeting with his potential investors. He hadn’t told Mother about this, of course. Maude would have his head if she knew. Even now, he was keeping this phone call as discreet as possible.

“Linus, we have a problem,” his mother said, stepping into the room without preamble.

He excused himself and hung up the phone, making a mental note to call back as soon as he saw to whatever disaster his mother was in a tizzy over.

“Just—look outside, would you?” She was flushed, and a few strands of hair were escaping the shell-hardened mold of hairspray she had used. “It’s Sabrina. Go and see,” she commanded.

He had a fleeting thought that something might have happened to her—maybe she had fallen out of the tree that she had used for so many years to spy on the party (and David). But as he glanced out the window, he found it was worse.

She was in the arms of his younger brother and looking positively _ravishing_ in her dress. And David appeared to be enjoying himself a little too much.

This was, indeed, a disaster.

David was summoned into the office, where Maude proceeded to chastise him. He, of course, maintained his innocence. They were “only dancing,” and “why can’t he have a drink with someone?” but both Linus and Maude knew he was lying through his philandering teeth.

“Do I look stupid?” Maude appealed to Linus with an ironic expression. “You know, I never thought of myself as stupid, but maybe I am.”

“I didn’t do anything,” David protested.

“You were _planning_ to!” their mother insisted.

“How do you know?” he continued to object, but even Linus could tell his defenses were up a little too high.

Maude broke into a brief soliloquy about the hours of labor she spent delivering David, and how the doctors insisted she take medicine and she turned it down for fear of hurting her child.

“Well, I change my mind,” she said. “If you screw up with Elizabeth, I swear I’ll kill you!”

Linus had to stifle a laugh. He adored his mother’s brash, forthright nature. Sometimes he envied her ability to speak her mind.

And now David was insisting that he was falling in love with Sabrina. As his younger brother turned and continued to argue with their mother, Linus noticed two familiar shapes poking against the back of David’s coat.

Linus smirked. So that was the plan, was it? Sneak to the solarium with Sabrina with a bottle of champagne and two concealed glasses and have his way with her. This idea suddenly irked the older Larrabee brother. Normally he could look past David’s childish womanizing, but this was _Sabrina_.

“Mother, go outside and blow out your candles,” Linus said, jabbing his thumb towards the window, were ‘Happy Birthday’ was being played by the orchestra.

She protested and made her way to the door.

“David, what do you think Sabrina wants?” he said, and he noticed his mother was delaying her exit. He continued anyway. “She’s spent her whole life above the garage with her nose pressed against the glass, or in that tree watching us at parties. Now you invite her to one. You’re in your—your Rolex jacket or whatever. You tell her to meet you in the solarium. She knows you’re gonna show up there with a bottle of champagne.”

“That’s not it! That has nothing to do with it!”

“She knows what’s coming!” Linus continues. “The jet to Martha’s Vineyard, the cottage full of food and flowers, house seats to some sold-out show. Drinks at the Carlyle. A day or two of that, she’d fall for Noriega!”

“You don’t know her. You don’t know the way she makes me feel. I can’t be engaged to somebody when I feel like this.”

Linus was struck momentarily dumb by this. Sabrina truly was _something_ —he didn’t know quite what, but he knew she was special, in the distracted and absent-minded way he had of noticing her. And here David was, falling head over heels for her after not noticing her once in the past twenty-three years.

Suddenly, he felt a desire to punch his brother in the face. Instead, he was hit with a more subtle and twisted way of dealing with this.

“David, sit down.”

And when he finally complied, David took a seat—right onto the glass champagne flutes in his back pockets. Linus felt a little guilty for the satisfaction at watching the pain cross over his brother’s handsome features. He deserved it. Maybe not glass in the ass cheeks, but…still. It was sort of poetic justice.

“Sabrina, she’s waiting for me,” David said, through screams of pain.

“I’ll take care of her,” Linus said, coming to a swift and business-like decision.


	2. Coming Undone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She offered him a small laugh at his lame joke, but her face clouded with confusion again.
> 
> “In all those years, I never saw you do this—meet a girl here with champagne.”

Sabrina paced the solarium, listening to the orchestra as they played through David’s song request twice. She recognized that she had been kept waiting quite a while, but thoughts of David kept her smiling. She was in a gorgeous dress, and an equally gorgeous man—whom she had loved since she was a small child—was on his way to visit her. At last, she was in the position of so many women she had envied. She was—

The door opened at last, and she turned to find…

“Linus.” Her face fell at the sight of the older Larrabee brother sauntering over to her.

He gave her a wry smile. “Hello, Sabrina. I have a message from David. He won’t be able to make it.” He paused, stopping within a few feet of her. “He sent me. I’m sorry.”

She glanced away, startled at the hint of mirrored disappointment on Linus’s face. She didn’t know why _he_ should feel this setback so keenly.

“You’re upset, of course,” he said, his tone losing the business-like edge it normally held.

She was embarrassed—for the second time in two days.

“Yes. No. Uh…I don’t know,” she said, with a small laugh at her own foolishness.

“I’m a little tired,” she said at last. “Why didn’t he come?”

“He was on his way. He had a slight accident,” Linus said, reaching down and opening a bottle of champagne he’d brought with him. “He sat on a champagne flute.”

She was instantly worried, unable to share in the slight expression of mirth on Linus’s face.

“He’s in the emergency room,” he said with a dry smile. “It was a sharp flute.”

When she was quiet, he said, “Hey, it’s supposed to be a joke,” with a little self-deprecating laugh.

Sabrina was too distracted to notice, but suddenly he was walking towards her with a full glass of bubbly.

“Couple of stitches. You’ll be able to see him tomorrow,” he said, handing her the glass.

“What’s this for?” she said, her mind still reeling.

“Part of the message from David.”

She watched him take a gulp of the sparkling liquid and came to a sudden realization.

“They’ve sent you to deal with me, haven’t they?” she said.

His eyes widened slightly, and she noticed they were a greenish-brown hue rather similar to her own. He was studying her astutely.

“They?” he repeated.

“Like a lawyer in a movie,” she said, sipping her champagne. “He goes to the unsuitable waitress or showgirl or…chauffer’s daughter. And says, ‘the family is prepared to offer you $100,000 to stay away from their son. ‘No,’ she says. ‘$150,000.’ ‘No’—”

“$200,000,” Linus interrupts.

She was stunned. She had been right, and he was actually _offering_ her the money.

“No,” she said softly.

“A million,” he countered, his gaze hard as he stared off into the corner of the room.

A muscle in his jaw twitched, and he turned to find her staring blankly at him.

“No self-respecting lawyer would offer less,” he said with a sudden half-smile.

She found her voice at last, setting her glass aside and facing him with renewed resolve. “No self-respecting waitress…would take it.”

“Good girl,” he said, his face warmed by an expression she had never seen before.

\--

Linus gazed at her. Her eyes were large, and they always seemed to stare straight through a person. He would find it discomforting, if he didn’t also find it a little endearing. She always looked a bit owlish when she was startled or shocked.

Sabrina turned away. “I’ve loved him all my life,” she said in her soft, tone. The English accent tinged her words with delicate ease.

“Have you?” he said, finding he had to force his lips into a hard line rather than allow a frown to tug them downwards.

“I thought I was over it.”

He glanced away, finding he couldn’t stare at the soft curve of her back any longer. “Surprise, surprise,” he muttered quietly, almost to himself.

“You don’t object?” she turned, her expression playful.

“Object? To you? Look at you,” he said, unable to stem the flow of words as they escaped his lips. “It’s as though a lovely breeze has swept through the whole house.”

She was momentarily taken aback by his sort-of-compliment, and she met him with a challenge. “Even though a breeze comes from the general direction of the garage?”

He snorted derisively. “It’s the 90’s, Sabrina.”

The song ‘How Can I Remember’ came drifting to them again. The reality of the situation seemed to come crashing on her shoulders. She let them slump forward slightly, and she glanced away with a wistful expression. Linus realized she had hoped to dance to this song with David.

“They played that the night before I left for Paris,” she said.

Linus approached her slowly, recalling how she had also snuck into David’s room to confess her feelings, only to find the older brother of her desired affections in there instead. And here he was again, dashing all her hopes and standing in the place of his more dashing, more handsome brother.

“They do often play that,” he said, hoping she understood the implications and knowing she already did.

“He was dancing with a woman, right here,” she said, swaying ever so slightly to the music.

“He often does,” he said, finding himself walking even closer to her. “And tonight you wanted it to be you.”

She turned, startled to find him standing behind her. Sabrina nodded her head. Something came loose inside Linus’s chest at the sight of her sad little smile, and he found himself reaching out and placing his hand on her left hip.

“It’s all in the family,” he said, extending his opposite hand in the air beside her.

He could feel her breathing grow suddenly shallow beneath his touch. She was gazing at him with—he didn’t know what the expression meant, but she was looking owlish again. Soon, she was swaying in time to the music and had placed her hands delicately inside the frame he had provided. Her palms were warm against his shoulder and in the curve of his fingers.

“I never thought of you as a dancer,” she said, her back rigid as she moved with him.

“Crazy about it. They call me Bojangles at the office.”

She offered him a small laugh at his lame joke, but her face clouded with confusion again.

“In all those years, I never saw you do this—meet a girl here with champagne.”

“Never did it before,” he admitted.

“You never _had_ to before,” she countered.

He sighed, wondering how she made everything into a challenge, a statement against his character.

“Is it impossible to believe that I want to dance with the prettiest girl at the party?”

“Thank you,” she said, her tone flat and unconvinced. “Yes, it is impossible to believe.”

“Then you don’t know me,” he said, finding she had allowed herself to be pulled closer in their embrace.

And as he stared into those large, questioning eyes of hers, something came undone inside the chest of Linus Larrabee.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he said, leaning down and pressing his lips to hers. She startled and pulled back.

“The rest of the message from David."

And then she slapped him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus far, I've been switching back and forth between their POVs, but I'll probably merge it in the next chapter. I think it's appropriate, given the unexpected nature of their first kiss. What was Linus thinking?!


	3. Martha's Vineyard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just then, though, it didn’t sound as though he was making a joke. He had looked…vulnerable.

_Oh my God,_ Sabrina’s mind screamed. Linus was kissing her. He was actually—his lips were pressed against hers, and she was stunned into total inactivity. Time stalled for a millisecond when she considered that his lips were surprisingly and unexpectedly soft.

She suddenly reeled back.

“The rest of the message from David,” he said. His lips were tinted slightly red from her dark lipstick.

Her hand moved of its own volition and collided with his cheek in a loud _thwack_ that echoed in the cavernous solarium.

Linus leaned back and lifted a hand to his cheek. He saw stars for a second, and he seemed to come back down to earth. That was possibly the stupidest thing he had ever done.

Sabrina was suddenly self-conscious, placing a hand briefly on his arm with a concerned look.

“Thanks. I needed that,” he said truthfully.

He didn’t know what had come over him. Maybe he could chalk it up to the soft lighting, the music, the champagne, and the beautiful woman in front of him. Or maybe he was just over-tired.

Sabrina found herself stuttering an apology. “I should never…you have my handprint on your face,” she said, feeling her cheeks flushing.

She shouldn’t feel ashamed for slapping him—he had kissed her, after all—but it still felt wrong. All of it felt wrong and out of place, but that didn’t mean he necessarily deserved it. He had always been kind to her. This had to be some sort of aberration.

“Maybe it’s better if you pick up your messages in person. You’ll see David tomorrow.”

He told her goodnight and stalked towards the exit. Sabrina found herself staring after him, feeling more confused than ever. She lifted a hand to her lips and mindlessly walked back to her home above the garage.

Linus was glad of the cool air against his stinging cheek. Damn, but she had slapped him hard. And he had deserved it.

In a flash, he had his phone out and was setting several plans in motion. It was as though a fire had been lit from under him, and he was anxious to make sure everything happened in perfect order. His plan would work. It would be flawless.

He made a few more phone calls and found himself pacing his room. Normally after such a party, he found himself people-weary and exhausted. Now, he was wired. It was one in the morning and he was not the least bit tired.

Linus undid his bowtie and caught his reflection in the mirror. There was a slight tint of dark red lipstick on his lips, and his left cheek was still a dull pink. No wonder some of the guests had given him strange looks when he bid them goodnight. He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped at the lipstick, his mind flooded with the memory of how well her lips had fit against his own, and how the curve of her waist had looked so elegant and enticing in that dress—

Suddenly, he felt a stirring he had not felt in a long time. He glanced down at his trousers and frowned. _Not now. And definitely, most adamantly, NOT because of Sabrina._

Linus took a long, cold shower and promptly sent himself to bed. Though he did not sleep. Tomorrow would be step one: Martha’s Vineyard.

\--

The next morning, Sabrina and Linus practically collided with each other at the back entrance of the house. He was leaving and she was entering. They paused and simply stared at one another for a moment.

He was the first to break the silence. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” she said, looking uncertain on the threshold.

“I’ll take you up to see David,” he said, smirking slightly. He knew the drugs he had asked the nurses to give him would make him loopy and incomprehensible.

Sabrina found David sleepy, rumpled and drooling against his pillow, but their conversation went nowhere. She offered to stay, but Linus insisted David needed his rest. She followed Linus down the stairs and made a polite exit. He stopped her before she made it two steps.

“I was, um, wondering,” he said, sounding uncertain, which was unusual for a businessman such as himself who made and broke deals on a daily basis.

She watched him as he asked her to do him a favor, to take pictures of their old summer cottage.

“I understand you have an interest in photography,” he said.

He had, in fact, caught a few glimpses of her pictures in the passenger seat beside Sabrina’s dad. When Linus asked about them, Thomas Fairchild was more than happy to gush over his daughter’s burgeoning talent as a photographer. Even to Linus’s untrained eye, they looked nice.

Sabrina was both stunned and flattered by his request, but she was incapable of response when Linus lifted his hand and donned a baseball cap on his head. He was talking about the plane, but all she could think was how silly he looked in the hat. He was looking particularly _casual_ today, and it was throwing her for a decided loop.

He caught her stifled look of amusement and quickly removed the hat with a self-conscious shake of his head. He had meant to catch her off-guard and take the upper hand in the offer, but here she was, making him feel like a fool again.

“Is that a lot to ask?” he said, clearing his throat.

She realized she had not yet responded. When she had regained her composure, she agreed to his terms. How often was it, after all, that she would get to ride in a private jet?

Three hours later, she found herself confronted with the Larrabee’s cottage at the vineyard. It was quaint, and the location was idyllic.

“Why do you want to sell such a beautiful place?” she asked as they ascended the stairs to the front door.

“No one uses it, except David.”

She caught his meaning. David brought women here.

They lapsed into silence again—which seemed to happen a lot between them. Even on the plane, when she was excited and chattering on about anything and nothing, he would sometimes just look at her and say nothing. She supposed he was used to being alone a lot, and she already knew he was a workaholic. It was no surprise that she had to practically pry him from his papers and phone calls to have a simple conversation.

He followed her as she snapped photographs of the interior, noting the “lived-in” sense it possessed with all the bric-a-brac and fresh flowers. There was even a table full of delectable fruits and desserts.

“Is it always like this?” she asked him.

“I don’t know. I haven’t been here in years.” Part of that was true. He had asked his secretary to ask David’s secretary to give the cottage “the treatment.”

“How could you have a place like this and not come here?”

“I guess I just never had anyone to share it with.” The truth slipped out before he could stop himself.

She had this way of watching him when he responded, those large eyes of hers taking in every subtlety of his expression that put him on edge. He found himself doing it again when she tried to take his picture, and he demurred, saying he always came out looking ‘depressed.’

“Are you depressed?” she said, in her unusually direct manner.

“Maybe that’s not the right word,” he found himself musing aloud.

“What is the right word?”

“I don’t know. Lonely, maybe?”

Sabrina gazed at him, feeling a smile tugging at her lips. She had had almost this exact same conversation with her friend Irene while she was in Paris. It was after a particularly disappointing date with Louis. She had felt it then, a keen sense of loneliness. She saw it on Linus’s face as he gazed out the window.

He glanced back and caught sight of her smile.

“That’s funny, is it?” He was shocked that she sounded a bit offended. He shouldn’t care.

“No, it’s just,” she demurred, “I expected you to say something else.”

“I suppose you’re right, though. It is funny. ‘Linus Larrabee is lonely.’” He expected a laugh out of her for that, but he found she was shocked instead. “I’m sorry, I’m making you uncomfortable. Let’s get some photos of the outside.”

Sabrina followed obediently, still mulling over his words. He had a funny way of using self-deprecating humor, and his wit was so dry at times that she had trouble figuring out when he was joking. Just then, though, it didn’t sound as though he was making a joke. He had looked…vulnerable.

\--

Linus found himself tossing and turning for the second night in a row. He had spoken with his mother on the phone and felt he had to take things ‘up a notch,’ so to speak. They had rented bicycles in town, gotten lunch at a quaint hole-in-the-wall, and finished a long day of sightseeing with a quaint picnic on the beach. And all the while, Sabrina had his head spinning.

They talked of Paris, and she insisted he wouldn’t like it there.

“What? Why?” he had asked, racing to catch up with her on his bike. He was oddly out of practice.

“Well, it’s all about pleasure. They work as hard as anyone, they just know when to quit and enjoy themselves.”

Ouch.

And then there was the business with that old, abandoned building she’d fallen in love with. He had told her he owned the entire block, and then he blurted out some silly lie about turning it into a halfway house. It had sounded good in his head, but he still didn’t know why he had said it. Maybe it was watching that old man pulling aluminum cans out of the trashcan. Sure, he was a businessman first, but he wasn’t completely heartless. Except that’s exactly what everyone seemed to say about him.

“What do people say about me?” he had asked her.

She hesitated, a pained look on her face, and said, “That you’re the world’s only living heart donor.”

He tried to play it off like he’d heard it a thousand times. But that one had hurt.

Emboldened by his first question, she continued. “Oh, how does this other one go…? ‘He thinks that morals are paintings on walls and scruples are money in Russia.’”

“Well, that’s droll,” was all he could say.

“And then there’s my favorite—”

But he had stopped her there. She seemed to be enjoying herself immensely. She laughed, showing him a rather brilliant smile he hadn’t seen before. Even if it was at his expense, he didn’t mind that smile one bit.

She wasn’t done being hard on him, though. She had an odd look on her face as she recalled an incident he’d nearly forgotten.

“I came into the house and tried to turn on a lamp and got shocked. I thought I had been struck by lightning.” She turned and met his gaze. “And you stayed with me all afternoon till my father came home.”

“And you didn’t cry. You were a brave kid.”

She stared at him, shaking her head. “No. I was more afraid of you than being electrocuted. Everybody was.”

He had laughed, but that one had hurt the worst. Sabrina, though soft-spoken and graceful, was rather adept at pinpointing some of his biggest flaws.

She had been wrong, though, on one thing. She thought he didn’t believe in marriage. The truth slipped out before he could stop himself. Of _course_ he believed in it. That’s why he never got married.

Linus sighed and rolled over for the fiftieth time. He could take ten cold showers and it still wouldn’t wash away the feeling of Sabrina’s gaze on him as she had spoken to him one last time that evening.

Sabrina found herself just as restless in her own bed. Her face flushed as she recalled some of the things she had said to Linus that day. There was something about his reticence, this energy he had about him like he was constantly holding himself back. It bothered her, and she felt compelled to draw him out somehow.

She should have apologized. She kept playing their last conversation over and over in her head.

“You were a little tough on me, I thought,” Linus had said as they exited the car.

She watched him closely as she spoke. “I guess you’re used to being treated very carefully.”

He had frowned and changed the subject. But she had had one last statement to make. She buried her face in her pillow as she recalled her words.

“My father once asked David why he stopped coming to the office. And David said, ‘What do they need me for? Linus is there.’”

That had seemed to rile him up the most. He looked almost angry, but she found she wasn’t afraid of him as she used to be.

“Listen, I do real work in the real world. David watches from the North Shore.”

She took a short breath, emboldened to continue. “I know you work in the real world, and you’re awfully good at it. I’ll bet you haven’t made a wrong move since you were three. But that’s work.” She met his gaze. “Where do you live, Linus?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phase 1 of Linus's plan is complete. But who is more affected here?


	4. Drinks and Theater Tickets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She felt her cheeks still burning slightly, wondering why the sight of Linus leaning over the table had been suddenly so inviting.

Linus glanced at Sabrina’s profile in the car. They were on their way to step two of the plan: drinks at the Carlyle and tickets to a sold-out show. He was frankly shocked she had agreed to come with him. But she seemed a bit more subdued tonight—less prone to making pointed statements about his character or his lifestyle. She wasn’t any less forthright, though.

“I’ve got a better idea for dinner tonight,” she had said, refusing to tell him where they were going.

He smirked to himself. That was so…Sabrina.

He parked the car, but before he could walk to her door and open it, she had already popped out onto the curb.

“You’re supposed to let me open the door for you,” he had chided her with a smirk.

“Oh, I am?” she was startled. “I’m sorry. Should I get back in the car?”

He put a hand on her arm to stop her, realizing she was teasing him again. Impulsively, he took her arm and linked it through his.

“Shall we?” he said with feigned gentility.

She laughed. “We shall.”

Sabrina led them into a lavishly decorated interior full of unfamiliar aromas. They were ushered to a low table—with no chairs. Linus glanced around and saw that everyone was sitting on the floor of the restaurant. She must have caught his mortified expression because she laughed slightly.

“Is this too strange?”

He glanced at her and situated himself on the floor across from her, wondering how many creases he was putting into his rather expensive suit.

“I’m doing that ‘living in the real world’ thing, remember?”

She gave him a wry smile before promptly ordering for both of them.

“Trust me,” she said. “You’ll like this.”

Linus nodded. He did. Implicitly.

He looked incredibly out of place, and she found she kind of enjoyed this rumpled, uncomfortable version of Linus. He looked so vulnerable in these moments. She had told him earlier, when he was being strangely playful and teasing, that he was not handsome—certainly not as handsome as David.

“Nobody’s as handsome as David—not even David,” she had said.

There had been an odd look on his face, but he had glanced away and made another off-handed joke about waiting till his younger brother was off the medications before telling him that.

Now, in the forgiving light afforded by covered lamps and dim chandeliers, the hard lines of his face were softened. He was smiling at her, making a dry comment on the manner of eating with their hands.

“I’ll have to try it with soup sometime,” he said, his mouth full to bursting with the delectable meal.

He was laughing and smiling, and suddenly it hit her like an arrow to the chest. Perhaps her earlier, outright statement hadn’t been entirely true. He had looked this way across the fire at Martha’s Vineyard, giving her these soft smiles. Why hadn’t she noticed it then? Linus Larrabee _was_ handsome, in his own way.

“Tell me more about Paris,” he said, wiping his hands on the cloth napkin and diving into the dish with vigor.

She told him of the friends she had made—he showed a little more interest in Louis than she would have expected. But maybe that was just idle curiosity. She spoke warmly of Irene and the delicate way her dear friend had of guiding Sabrina. Irene was the one who suggested she take walks and write in her journal.

“She showed you how to ‘find yourself’ in Paris,” Linus observed.

She caught his gaze over the rim of her wine glass and nodded slowly. He wasn’t teasing this time.

“I noticed more had changed with you than just your hair—as flattering as the new style is. You seemed to have blossomed somehow,” Linus said, in a suddenly faltering and hesitating manner.

She stared at him, offering him a wan, “Thank you.”

He cleared his throat and shook his head, donning a more sober expression. “Tell me more about these bridges.”

Sabrina talked endlessly, adding more details with each question he asked. It was the first time someone had shown more than a passing interest in her year abroad. Her father was kind, of course, and let her gush to her heart’s content when she had arrived home. But of course she had been distracted with seeing David again, and her father had seemed preoccupied with this as well.

Linus offered his own stories of traveling to Japan, but of course he had kept to his hotel and board meetings.

“I rarely made time to sight-see. I’d like to remedy that someday,” he said, finding that under Sabrina’s gaze he could tell nothing but the truth.

_Sabrina fair…_ the line of the poem she had told him on the way to Martha’s Vineyard floated back into his memory. And she _was_ fair, especially now with her cheeks flushed and eyes lit with excitement.

“You have a, uh…” he pointed to the corner of his mouth, and she grabbed her napkin, missing the spot of sauce at the corner of her lips.

“Here,” he said, reaching forward impulsively to wipe at the spot with his thumb.

She stiffened under his touch, her eyes searching his with unspoken questions. Linus leaned back, berating himself for letting his impulses take control of his better judgment. This was supposed to be step two of the plan. It should have been drinks at the Carlyle followed by the theater, but here they were ensconced in the warm glow of a Moroccan restaurant. Linus’s secretary would probably faint if she knew he had willingly sat on the floor cross-legged and ate his dinner without silverware.

“Thank you,” she said softly, fiddling with a handful of fresh rose petals that adorned the tabletop.

He had to stick to the plan. There was an engagement that had to go forward, and Sabrina had to be pushed out of the way.

She felt her cheeks still burning slightly, wondering why the sight of Linus leaning over the table had been suddenly so inviting.

“So did you see anything interesting at all while you were in Tokyo?” she rapidly changed the subject.

“There were an awful lot of karaoke bars.”

The image of Linus on stage singing “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” to a crowd of excited onlookers suddenly flashed across Sabrina’s mind, and she burst into laughter.

He smiled, his brow furrowing slightly.

“Sorry,” she said between giggles. “I was just picturing you singing, and—” she started laughing again.

“It would be unusual, to say the least,” he said, sharing in her mirth. “Though I _can_ sing, you know. And not too badly, either.”

She kept her smile and shook her head. “He sings, he dances, he knows how to bake clams over an open fire—what other secrets are you hiding, Linus?”

He couldn’t hide the frown that suddenly filled his face. His stomach twisted into a guilty knot at her question. He suddenly hated that he had ever sent himself to deal with Sabrina in the first place. Damn the Tyson agreement. He should have just let her steal David into her arms, and—

“I was thinking,” he said suddenly, wishing to talk about something—anything other than his secrets. “Thinking about how nice it would be to…get away. To do some more living in the real world and all that.”

She studied him closely. He wasn’t meeting her gaze.

“Surely you can’t mean Paris?” she blurted out.

“Maybe. I don’t know,” he said with a soft laugh.

She continued to gaze at him, wondering what in the world he could possibly mean. The thought of Linus in Paris, eating a baguette and walking across bridges—this idea didn’t seem as insane as it once did. Especially when she kept placing herself beside him in her mind’s eye, with her arm around his waist, looking over the water.

Sabrina shook this thought clear from her head and glanced at her watch suddenly, realizing how late it had become.

“We’ve missed the show, haven’t we?” she said, wondering if Linus had been looking forward to it. She admitted to herself that she would have enjoyed a West End show.

He dismissed her concern and suggested they take a walk instead. Without asking, he took the check and insisted on paying despite her protests.

“Let me treat you this once,” he said, laughing when she tried to snatch it from his hands.

She wanted to tell him she was _tired_ of being treated. He had paid for the private jet to Martha’s Vineyard, bought the ingredients for their picnic on the beach, and he had even bought theater tickets, which they didn’t end up using. But his expression was one of determination, and she knew there was no arguing with Linus once he’d made up his mind.

He stood up, straightened his wrinkled clothes, and extended a hand toward her. Sabrina hesitated before accepting his help. He lifted her with ease, and suddenly she was standing very close to him. The same odd expression passed over his face again, and she wished to know what it meant. Just as suddenly, it disappeared, and he had put distance between them again.

Linus again brought up the subject of Paris, to which she still gave him a skeptical look.

“I’ll have to learn how to say ‘I’m just looking,” he said, walking beside her.

“ _Je regarde juste_ ,” she said without prompting.

Encouraged by this, he decided to ask a few more phrases. “How about ‘this is what I want?’”

“ _C’est ce que je veux._ ”

He paused on the sidewalk, waiting for her to turn and face him. He was about to make another stupid decision, but as most things regarding Sabrina, he felt compelled to push full steam ahead no matter the consequences.

“And how do you say, ‘I’m looking at what I want?’” he said, wondering if she took his meaning. (Except Linus wasn't quite ready to admit to _himself_ what he meant by it.)

Sabrina gave him an owlish expression. “I—I don’t remember,” she said, turning abruptly and leading them back towards the car.

They had not walked far, but she was suddenly anxious to return home. Her head was spinning with the implications of Linus’s question. What on earth was he doing?

Linus was asking himself the same question as he opened the car door for Sabrina. She gave him an ironic look before seating herself in the passenger seat. The drive home was eerily quiet. It seemed neither of them knew quite what to say to one another. The ease from earlier had dissipated, and Linus had only himself to blame.

He was supposed to sweep her off her feet, not get his own head and heart mixed up in the process. But damn it, he knew he had been speaking the truth. He glanced sideways at Sabrina.

_I’m looking at what I want._

He pulled the car into Larrabee house driveway, and they found David waiting for them.

Sabrina was startled, glancing briefly at Linus. It was odd—she hadn’t thought about David all evening. Not even once.

She thanked Linus for a good evening, and he disappeared into the shadows of the front garden, leaving her alone with David. She thought she would be ecstatic at this turn of events, but instead she felt oddly guilty and ill-at-ease. Especially when David said they should ‘pick up where they left off.’ She was in no mood to sneak off to the solarium, not for all of David’s wheedling.

She found herself confronting him rather sharply about what was going to happen between them. It was all she could do not to shake his shoulders and scream at him— _tell me what you want from me! I’ve been in love with you all my life, and this is not how I thought it would go between us_.

David, instead, gave her a noncommittal response. That was so like him. Sabrina was startled to find she was irritated. She told him she was tired and bade him goodnight.

Meanwhile, Linus watched briefly from the shadows. He saw David kiss Sabrina’s hand, and his stomach twisted into another tight knot. Sabrina was smiling at his brother, but it wasn’t the brilliant, enchanting smile she normally wore for David. Linus shook his head and took himself to bed. He needed a cold shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get more complicated, and Linus is not making things any easier for himself or Sabrina. The tough scenes are coming soon!


	5. Come to Paris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He felt himself drawing closer, hesitating just enough to wait for her reaction. If she slapped him, he knew it was all over for him. That he had failed. But she didn't.

Sabrina nearly ran into Linus at the back door of the estate. This time, she was leaving and he was entering.

“We meet again,” Linus said with a half-smile and in his dead-pan tone.

She recalled several instances last night where he had laughed, freely and openly. And where he had made her laugh as well. She was surprised to realize he had a sense of humor, but it seemed he kept it hidden under a façade of businesslike professionalism—which was in full effect this morning.

“Yes,” she said, a bit breathless. “I was going to look in on David, but he is still asleep.”

Linus checked his watch. “He’s usually not up before noon unless he has a tennis match with his friends.”

“Ah,” she said, pretending she didn’t already know this fact.

She had actually decided to miss seeing him on purpose, wishing to leave a note instead. What she hadn’t anticipated was running into Linus.

“You’re a little late leaving for the office, aren’t you?” she said when he glanced alternately at her and the ground. He seemed particularly anxious this morning. The businesslike façade was cracking.

He laughed slightly, that self-deprecating smile filling his face as usual. “I forgot my briefcase. Rookie mistake.”

“Oh, uh, well I’ll let you by so you aren’t late.”

“It’s fine. Your father was willing to wait for me.”

Sabrina nodded, smiling to herself. No doubt he was enjoying a few extra minutes of reading while he waited.

He cleared his throat. “Maude, however, is the definition of impatience. So, uh—hey,” he said as she turned to let him pass. “Would you mind dropping by my office sometime today? It’s no pressure I just—have another favor to ask.”

“S-sure,” she said, wondering why he couldn’t seem to meet her gaze.

“See you at about 3 ‘o clock?”

She nodded, and he suddenly had a fond smile on his face. He reached out and gently took her hand in his as if he was going to shake it. Instead, he held it a moment and then dropped it.

“See you then,” he mumbled and then disappeared inside.

Sabrina watched the door close, mulling over that odd little interaction. She decided not to think about it and practically ran back to her room. She wasn’t anxious to wait around and encounter him a second time.

She decided to treat herself to a day out on the town. She visited her favorite coffee shop and bakery, browsed several bookstores, and even considered purchasing a new dress. But no matter what Sabrina did, all she could think about was Linus’s face as he held her hand. What on earth was happening? She wanted David.

Except…she had left a rather strongly-worded note for David to read. She wondered why she had been so compelled to write it, except that she usually lost her nerve when confronted with his gorgeous blue eyes. She had asked him, in no uncertain terms, what she meant to him and whether he planned to go through with his engagement. Sabrina wanted to know where she stood in his affections. Part of her hoped he would read it and be compelled to find her, throwing all his plans aside to make room in his life for her. Another part of her kept replaying the image of Linus laughing at one of her stories, and the feel of his hand against hers.

_Save me, Sabrina fair…_

This time, she felt _she_ needed saving. Linus had suggested he _wanted_ her. Is that really what he meant? More importantly, what did _she_ want? She was unable to answer that question. And so she wandered around Manhattan in a daze.

Linus, meanwhile, was pacing his office. It was 4 ‘o clock and most employees had left early for the day. It was Friday, after all, and Monday was a bank holiday. Many took advantage of this and had tentatively asked off early, expecting to be shot down. For once, he actually didn’t seem to care if his employees went home early. Unwilling to question this strange turn of events, most left (even those who hadn’t submitted a request) which left the office practically empty.

Except for Linus and his ever-faithful secretary.

“Mack, what time is it?” Linus buzzed his secretary.

“You’ve got a watch, don’t you?” she responded.

He snorted. Only a trusted employee, and Mack, could get away with that kind of tone.

After a pause, she buzzed through again to say, “She’s still not here, Sir.”

He sighed and fell back into his chair. But he was on his feet again in an instant, going to his sink to shave his five-o-clock shadow and freshen up (for the third time) just in case she did decide to show up.

He was in the midst of his ministrations when Mack buzzed in.

“Sabrina Fairchild,” she said, in her matter-of-fact tone.

Linus dropped the electric razor and readjusted his bowtie.

Sabrina faced away from the door, unsure if she should run away or stay put.

“I was worried you weren’t coming,” he said.

She turned and met his gaze. “I’ve been wandering around Manhattan thinking about…things.”

He appeared concerned. She opened her mouth and tried to explain her confusion, the frustration she was dealing with over the workings of her own heart, and how two people, who barely knew each other (or knew each other too well, perhaps) might somehow fall for each other. It made absolutely no sense. But with each statement, she took one more step towards him. And another.

Then somehow, she was facing him, talking about irrelevant things.

“Who cuts your hair?” she said, gently lifting a hand and letting it fall gently against the side of his head.

His hair was surprisingly soft and fine, a light brown flecked with gray throughout. He had a restrained expression on his face, and suddenly he had reached up and taken gentle hold of her wrist. She might have imagined it, but he was shaking slightly.

He responded, something about how his barber had been his father’s, and the man was in his 90’s. Perhaps his hand wasn’t as steady as it used to be.

But she wasn’t really paying attention anymore. His eyes were lit with something new, some fresh spark that she had seen only once before—just seconds before he had impulsively kissed her in the solarium. She realized he was holding her hand now against his chest, and he looked startlingly sober.

“Come to Paris.”

She hesitated, her words caught in her throat. “You mean… _go_ to Paris.”

“No. Come to Paris—with me.”

Sabrina stared at him, her hand stuttering slightly against his chest. He couldn’t seriously mean…it was impossible.

He gently pulled her closer, placing a hand on her hip as he had done with the dance those nights ago.

He would use all of his persuasive powers on her. He would do it because he had to—not because she was staring at him with her owlish eyes and her suddenly confused but hopeful expression. Not because she was beautiful and he wanted to pull her to him, to feel her hand on his hair again.

But he hated himself for it.

“You are formidable. In business,” she said at last.

This wasn’t business. The thought hit him like a ton of bricks. It _wasn’t_. This was about Sabrina and Linus.

He felt himself drawing closer, hesitating just enough to wait for her reaction. If she slapped him, he knew it was all over for him. That he had failed.

But she didn’t. Instead, she closed her eyes as he gently placed his lips over hers. He was stunned when she responded in kind, letting her hands come to rest on his shoulders. He pressed against her, wishing he could feel every inch of her.

_Damn it! Damn it all to hell!_ She tasted delicious, and he wanted more.

Sabrina could hardly breathe. His breath was hot against her cheek as he pulled back to gain better purchase over her mouth. He was definitely trembling this time, and she was too lost in the sensations of his kiss to really let it sink in just _whom_ she was kissing.

And then the door opened, and Mack entered.

Linus felt the spell was truly broken now. Sabrina had turned away and was gazing at the two tickets on the top of his desk.

He hated himself more than ever when Mack said, “The other things have been taken care of.”

Shit. The other things. He had almost forgotten, having lost himself in the warm spell of Sabrina’s presence. He wanted to take her in his arms again, to pretend it was real and that they really could run away together.

“Do you want some dinner?” he asked instead, stepping towards her but keeping his distance. He was only delaying the inevitable.

She shook her head, and he couldn’t tell if she was crying.

“I could order in,” he insisted, but suddenly she had turned and wrapped her arms around him.

She was laughing, but there were tears in her eyes. She said over and over again how happy he had made her, that she didn’t understand it, had been so confused, and wasn’t even interested—

“Gee, thanks,” he said with a dry chuckle, pressing his hands lightly against the small of her back. She felt so good in his arms.

She laughed and said she had always been interested in David.

And that’s when Linus allowed himself two more seconds of the glorious embrace—of the sensation of her arms around his neck and her lips pressing against his ear, his cheek, his lips—before he pulled away.

Sabrina stared at his face, taken aback by the sudden expression of longing that she saw there. It was mingled with something else…sadness, perhaps. Anger. Why was he angry?

Linus looked at her, knowing it would be for the last time, and told her everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooh this is not looking good for Linus. (Poor Sabrina.)


	6. What the River Told Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “David punched me in the face.”
> 
> She turned at this, completely flabbergasted.
> 
> “But it’s alright, because I punched him back,” he added.

Sabrina gazed out the window of the plane and opened her journal. She decided she might as well write it all down, to cleanse every part of herself before she returned home—to Paris.

What more could she have said to convince Linus that he was wrong, that though he may have intended to ‘get rid’ of her, he should come with her?

“You’d like Paris,” she had told him, as a final, last-ditch effort to keep him from throwing everything away. But it was like arguing with a brick wall.

She had begun to understand that David was wrong for her. But it wasn't until Linus had kissed her in his office that she _knew_ what she had with him was real, that what he felt passed between them with each breath they shared in that moment.

Of course, she was angry with him. It would take some time before she would be able to think of him and not feel the sting of betrayal. And with David, she felt a deep sense of loss over all of her childhood fantasies. She looked back on her conduct with extreme embarrassment. Imagine, watching his every move for years and not having the nerve to say anything. Mooning about like some lovesick child after a man who never noticed her until she was pretty enough.

Linus noticed her. He was always the first to do so, even before she found herself in Paris.

How had she been so blind? And what sort of idiot turned down a trip to Paris with a woman he clearly had feelings for?

Sabrina recalled how he had trembled at her touch, and how he still seemed to hold himself back. He was afraid. Perhaps afraid of letting go for once in his damn life.

Her father had been furious when he realized how heartbroken she was. She could never truly hide anything from him—he was too good at reading her, like one of his many books. And that is when he revealed he had earned a considerable amount of money (“More than two million,” he had said) and was willing to give her the half she deserved. He was grieved to see her leave, and so soon, but he knew she couldn’t stay in the States any longer. She belonged in Paris.

She sighed and returned her journal to the safety of her carry-on bag as the hostess announced they were landing soon.

The taxi ride took no time at all—or perhaps her mind was simply too preoccupied. She found herself standing on the curb, hoping she had remembered to tip the nice driver, and fiddling aimlessly with her keys.

A figure across the street caught her eye, and she froze in place.

Linus.

He walked towards her, his heart hammering in his chest. He stopped just out of arms’ reach of her and waited for a sign of anger or reproach. Instead, she just stared at him in her owlish way.

“You said Paris is always a good idea,” he said, faltering slightly.

“You came. You’re here,” she said, still trying to reconcile the sight of Linus standing in the middle of the road in the city that she loved with all her heart.

“I am,” he said, pocketing his hands in a clear attempt to prevent himself from reaching out to her.

She considered her options. She could send him away, claiming the hurt was too great and possible cut herself off from the one person who might make her truly happy. Or…

Sabrina leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him. She could feel his sharp intake of breath, and he actually relaxed into her hold for once.

Linus let his hands wander a bit more freely against her back, and he pulled away just so he could capture her lips in a kiss. This one tasted even sweeter than the last.

He knew he didn’t deserve her. He was far too old for her, far too stuffy, and not nearly as attractive. But here she was, enthusiastically responding to his kiss. She pulled back, and he wanted to cry out in disappointment a the lack of contact between them.

“Grab my bags,” she said, giving him one more lingering kiss as she turned to open the door.

Linus piled as many of them into his arms as he could, and she turned and laughed at the comical sight, relieving him of two or three as they made their way up the staircase.

She led them to her apartment and showed him where to drop the bags. He glanced around and found it was furnished with a full size bed, side tables, kitchenette, and sofa.

“Would you like a coffee?” she said, pulling a jar of instant coffee from her carry-on.

“I’d better not. I’m already a bit too excited as it is.”

She gave him a sly smile. “Is that so?”

“You have no idea how many planes and helicopters it took for me to make it to you in time. I feel like I just ran a marathon.”

Sabrina turned and busied herself with the electric kettle.

“What finally convinced you to chase after me?” she said, her back still turned.

“David punched me in the face.”

She turned at this, completely flabbergasted.

“But it’s alright, because I punched him back,” he added.

She frowned and approached him, taking his chin in her hand and turning it toward the light. “Your lip is swollen. You should have told me before I—”

“I didn’t mind one bit, Sabrina,” he said, drawing her to him.

Sabrina pressed a finger gently against the red spot on his bottom lip.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” she said, running her finger down the side of his neck and enjoying the way it sent a visible shiver down his entire body.

“What?” he said, his voice a bit hoarse.

“You’ll be away from work for quite some time. You’ll have to do as the Parisians do and take pleasure in simply existing.”

“All play and no work, you mean?” he said, tightening his hold on her as she let her finger settle against the skin under his shirt collar.

“Precisely,” she responded, kissing his chin.

“I think I can manage that.”

Suddenly, Sabrina felt herself being lifted and drawn to the bed. He fell against her on top of the covers and was kissing her so thoroughly that she could barely breathe. He was intoxicated by the smell of her perfume and the sensation of her fingers running through his hair. He tossed his glasses aside and quickly removed his suit coat.

“Sabrina,” he said between kisses as he worked his way down her neck.

“Yes, Linus?” she said, her hands drifting across his back in soothing, delightful circles.

“I’m a bit—out of practice,” he responded, pulling back slightly to stare down at her.

“With what?” she said, already deciding she would disagree with whatever he said, because it seemed like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“With—this,” he said, waving a hand between the two of them.

She reached up and slowly undid his tie, tossing it aside. “Would it help you to know that I’ve only done this once before?”

“The French photographer…Louis, was it?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye.

She nodded, her cheeks flushing slightly.

His face clouded again, and she seemed to read his thoughts.

“I am here with you, Linus,” she said.

“You spent your whole life loving him, I just—”

“Linus,” she said, putting her hands on either side of his face. “I meant it when I said you would like Paris. You, not David.”

She recalled her last conversation with the youngest Larrabee. It had been a rather cold interaction. He had read her note and was less than pleased when she returned late in the evening. He also seemed to understand her affections had been stolen away, without truly knowing who or why—or when, since he had spent the majority of it under heavy sedation while he healed from his injuries.

“As long as you’re sure,” Linus said, drawing her back to the present.

He was painfully aware of the self-consciousness he held close to his chest. It hit him like a pang of guilt every time he looked into her beautiful face. What on earth was she doing with him, after all?

“You would not be here in my bed with me if I weren’t sure,” she told him, pulling him in for a kiss.

He remained unconvinced for approximately five more seconds before she reached down and deftly removed the belt from his pants.

This seemed to give Linus the permission he needed, and suddenly he was unbuttoning her dress and kissing every exposed piece of skin he found. She helped him out of his button-up shirt and pants. They lay facing each other for several moments while Sabrina ran her fingers through his hair. He wasn’t fit like David, but he was well toned. She let her hand trail down his chest and pass over the sensitive skin just above the band of his boxes. He hummed and closed his eyes, shivering slightly.

“Has it been a long time?” she said, watching as he melted under her touch.

“Too long,” he said with a low growl and suddenly rolled on top of her.

She felt his excitement against her thigh, and it sent a thrill down her spine to realize she was the source of this sudden burst of passion.

As he continued to explore her curves and press kisses to every inch of her face and neck, she wondered if perhaps he was always this passionate but hid it away for safe keeping. The final piece of his resolve faded away the moment she reached back and removed her bra.

“Good God, Sabrina,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

She didn’t have a chance to respond as he let his full weight rest on top of her. Louis had been a gentle and informative lover, but it had lacked the passion she always associated with the act itself.

Now, she felt as though she would burst with anticipation unless he did something about it. She tugged at his boxers and removed her underwear in one swift movement. These articles of clothing were kicked onto the floor without the least care. They fell back together in a tangle of arms and legs and skin. At last, they found their rhythm, and it wasn't long before Sabrina discovered the passion she was looking for. Linus followed shortly after. A few moments later, they lay panting beside one another.

“You are so beautiful,” he said, running one of his hands down the side of her neck and letting it rest gently on her shoulder. “You always have been.”

“Even with my glasses and terrible wardrobe?”

“Especially then. And even when you came to me during the storm, staring at me with those large eyes of yours and standing on your gawky, knobby knees.”

“I did not have knobby knees!” she said, swatting his bare chest.

He drew her to him and wrapped his arms around her with a grin.

She smiled, finding she enjoyed the feeling of his gaze on her. “You always noticed me. I’m only sorry I didn’t see you until—well, three days ago, I suppose.”

“Yes, well how could I possibly compete with David’s otherworldly handsomeness?”

“You are handsome,” she insisted.

“That’s not what you said yesterday.”

“Yes, well yesterday I was lying. To you and to myself.”

He gasped, feigning shock. “Sabrina fair told a lie?”

She rolled her eyes and poked at the swollen spot on his lip. “Keep that up and I’ll punch you, too.”

The next day, she showed him her favorite bridge. She shared with him what the river told her, and he kissed her as it began to rain.

Linus Larrabee found himself in Paris, with Sabrina Fairchild.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! Hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. <3


End file.
